The Art of Self Destruction
by Eski
Summary: Nobody could have predicted what would have happened from a simple sixth year potion going wrong... Harry is swept up into a circle of love and hate with the most unlikely person of all: Draco Malfoy. But is the potion entirely to blame? [slash]
1. Prologue

**Summary:** The death of Harry Potter's godfather has left him shaken and feeling like he is alone. Life at Hogwarts has gone back to normal for his sixth year, even with the trouble going on in the wizarding world with Voldemort, but he doesn't feel like he's really there; instead it is as though the Gryffindor is just a ghost, completely invisible and stubbornly refusing to move on as he stands back and watches the world go by. But then a potion goes horribly wrong and sends his already tumultuous relationship with Draco Malfoy into a seemingly neverending circle of intense love and hate. But which of those will win over and is the potion really to blame?

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or anything associated with it, nor do I profit from my fanfiction. Unfortunately.

* * *

Two more days. Just two more days before he would be released from his prison in Privet Drive. Harry Potter was eagerly awaiting his return to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, perhaps more so than ever before in his time at the school. He would be starting his sixth year, though it still seemed like only yesterday he had nervously approached King's Cross for the first time, and he really couldn't wait to get back to what was, for a wizard like him at least, something like normality.

He had been stuck inside the Dursley's house for far too long with nothing to do but dwell on the events of the previous year. It was agonising just lying on his bed night after night, watching his godfather fall through the veil over and over in his head. His sixteenth birthday had come and gone without any acknowledgment from the muggles he lived with (unsurprisingly, of course) although he'd received a few gifts from friends. Ron had sent a selection of sweets from Honeydukes and a few items from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes—the non-explodeable luminous balloons he'd accidentally set off in the middle of the night hadn't gone down too well in the Dursley household, as they let out a terrible noise that nearly woke the neighbours and all. Hermione's present was a small model Firebolt that was enchanted to fly around of its own accord like a real broomstick… Hedwig hadn't been a fan of that when it kept zooming around her cage. Hagrid had sent a special birthday cake that he had made himself—Harry hadn't touched that—and… and nothing. The one thing that he wished he could have gotten wasn't there. His godfather was still dead.

The Gryffindor felt sick just thinking about it so he had tried to plan a trip to Diagon Alley to pick up his supplies for the next year at Hogwarts but Mr and Mrs Weasley had decided it would be better for him to stay at home while they picked up his things for him. Ron had sent an owl with the supplies and a letter of apology for his parent's paranoia but other than that, the letters he received were few and far between. It felt just like last summer; he was completely detached from the wizarding world, and this year more than ever he wanted news on Voldemort now that he was an open threat.

More than anything, Harry wanted to go back so that he could walk around without people glaring at him and showing their obvious dislike. The people at Hogwarts who disliked him felt that way not because he was a wizard but because he was Harry Potter. The famous boy, the image of his father, the git who just would not die. In Little Whinging, they didn't like him because they thought he was a freak of nature.

Sometimes, it was incredibly tough being him. Not even because of the constant battles he faced with the Dark Lord. No, it was for the sole reason that everyone expected great things from Harry. Even if they didn't know him and even if there was no way for him to live up to their high expectations. He was The Boy Who Lived, after all, and that meant everyone had their opinion of him before they'd met him. People often saw the scar rather than the boy and made their assumptions without even considering the fact that he was just an ordinary, or as ordinary as a wizard can ever be, teenager.

Harry had been putting up with the stares and hushed whispers for five years now and he considered himself quite expert at ignoring them and getting on with his life as best as he could. But it wasn't easy. Wherever the Gryffindor went, trouble seemed to follow. It made people thing that he was always trying to play the hero—which he normally did end up doing but definitely not by choice. Really, who would willingly involve themselves in such a mess? Giant snakes and dark arts and evil wizards, oh my.

Yes, it wasn't easy being Harry Potter. But he didn't really have a choice in these matters so he just did what he could with what he had.


	2. Chapter One

"Boy! Those… people are here!"

The voice of Vernon Dursley echoed noisily up the stairs and Harry's heart gave a joyful somersault at that news. He was finally leaving! With an almost impossibly wide grin, the boy dragged his heavy trunk and Hedwig's cage out of his room and down the stairs, coming to an abrupt halt as he saw Remus Lupin standing in the doorway. For a moment his mind flew back to that fateful night at the Ministry of Magic but he pulled himself away from those unwelcome thoughts and focused on his Uncle, who seemed to be standing as far away from the front door as he could. Petunia peeked meekly over his shoulder and he could just make out the dulcet tones of Dudley complaining about the influx of freaks in his house.

"Ready to go?" Lupin asked cheerfully, smiling at Harry as he heaved his trunk and the cage over towards the door.

"Definitely."

"Well, let's go then. Don't want to be late for the train, do we? There's no flying car to help you out this time."

Harry grinned at the memory as he was ushered out the door, turning back slightly as he went to see Mr Dursley staring after the pair with a mixture of fear and dislike. As soon as the teenager's trainers had left the doorstep, the muggle slammed the front door shut so hard that the windows rattled in their frames. He then slumped against it, breathing a sigh of immense relief.

"Arthur managed to get us two Ministry cars… they're a bit more willing to cooperate after the events at the end of term," Lupin said, choosing his words carefully in an attempt to not make the boy think about Sirius. He took Harry's trunk and the cage and loaded them into the boot of one of the sleek black cars. The space expanded to fit in the extra luggage and the Gryffindor smiled, glad to be back with magic again.

Harry opened the door and slid inside, settling comfortably onto the leather interior as he was greeted with cries of, "Harry!"

Hermione was looking quite tanned as she leaned forwards as far as the seatbelt would let her, securing him in a tight hug, and he noted that Ron's freckles seemed to have doubled since they'd seen each other last as the redhead grinned at him. It felt good to be back amongst his friends but just seeing them again brought back the memories of when they had been together before. If only they hadn't all rushed in like that…

"Did you have a good summer?" Hermione asked as Lupin got into the passenger seat of the car, next to the suited driver. "I'm sorry we couldn't meet up, you know how everyone is right now what with all the confusion surrounding… surrounding _Voldemort._ They all thought it was for the best if you kept out of sight for the summer. Ron says you couldn't even come to Diagon Alley with him and that's just awful Harry, you must have been so bored—"

Harry cut the girl off, fearing that she would ramble on for hours if he didn't. "It was fine, really. It wasn't that bad, I mean, I had your letters so I wasn't completely cut off." That wasn't quite the truth but what they didn't know didn't hurt them. "So what did you two end up doing then?"

"I went to America for two weeks and it was brilliant, really great! That lot over there are rather strange but they taught me some really interesting spells, I'll show you them sometime if you want," the girl beamed, placing her tanned hands in her lap.

"Erm," he mumbled, doing his seatbelt up and looking awkward. "That's okay Hermione, you don't have to."

"Okay, if you say so… Oh! And I went to Hogsmeade with my parents when we got back. They were both really interested in it seeing as it's the only completely Wizarding village left. We didn't stay long though because everyone kept talking about You-Know-Who so they got a bit worried," she added, looking fretful at the mention of the dark wizard. The girl seemed on the verge of questioning him about that when Ron decided to chime in.

"I went to see Fred and George's shop, it's doing really well. Bloody packed when I visited."

Harry grinned. "I'm not surprised, I remember how popular their stuff was last year."

As the car began to pull away from the pavement, he turned slightly to stare back at number 4, feeling extremely glad to be getting away from the muggles he couldn't stand. Resting his forehead against the cool glass of the window as Ron and Hermione chattered excitedly amongst themselves, his thoughts drifted slightly as one message kept repeating itself over and over in his mind: I can't wait to get back.

---

The purr of the engine died down as they drew to a stop outside the station, amidst the masses of people rushing around. Ron and Hermione happily bundled out of the car, grabbing their trunks and heading off to platform nine and three quarters. Harry stayed sitting for a moment, watching the people move around, then finally hopped out and took a gulp of fresh air. It was good to be out of the stuffy car that, while a nice change from his usual transport, was still rather cramped. He then took his luggage out of the boot and settled it onto a trolley, watching as Lupin waved him over.

"Ready to go through?" said the older man, waiting by the wall between platforms 9 and 10.

The Gryffindor nodded slowly, eyeing the familiar spot with slightly narrowed eyes. No matter how many times he made the trip from muggle world to wizarding, it was still unnerving to hurl yourself at a wall. Still, there was only one way through. The boy backed up a bit then, after a deep breath, charged towards the entrance. He built up speed and then went hurtling through, skidding to a stop just in time to avoid crashing into Mad-Eye Moody, who was looking grumpy as usual.

"Sorry," said Harry sheepishly, smiling at Tonks as she appeared and then heading to the Weasley clan. Molly swept him up into a bear hug, patting him all over to check he'd not sustained any damage over the summer holidays and beaming at him like he was a long lost son finally home. Ginny smiled warmly at him but then looked decidedly moody as Cho Chang wandered past, saying hello as she went. Weird. The rest of the family of redheads greeted him cheerfully and it felt weird to be amongst people who actually liked him, after so much time with the Dursleys that summer.

"Train's leaving soon," Moody announced in a gruff voice, one eye on the great crimson train and the other on the assembled group. "You best be getting on, eh?"

Hermione nodded and bid farewell to the lot of them, then shepherded Ron towards the train, hands firmly planted on his shoulders as she guided him onto it. Ginny and Harry exchanged amused glances but said nothing; they were used to it by now. The two Gryffindors followed the others onto the Hogwarts Express after saying their goodbyes, heading down a long corridor until they found an empty compartment near the front of the train and quickly claimed it so they wouldn't be bothered by random students.

Ron was just going for a seat by the window, opposite Hermione, but the green-eyed boy beat him to it. Settling comfortably on the old seat and offering no reply to the other boy's indignation other than a grin, he turned automatically to stare out the window, watching all of the happy families as they said goodbye to their children and ushered them onto the train. His first year had been so different to that… If he hadn't joined the Weasleys, he would have been completely alone. No friends, no family. Nobody to see him off. Nobody to wave goodbye and tell him to be safe. No one.

Hermione looked over at the redhead hovering by the door, raising her eyebrows. "Are you going to stand there all day, Ginny?"

The girl blushed and then rushed in, sliding the door shut behind her and settling onto a seat next to the older student. It seemed that although she had become closer to the group in their time at Hogwarts, she still felt slightly out of place because of the age difference. Or at least, that's what he assumed it was. It couldn't have been anything else.

While the others began to talk amongst themselves cheerily, Harry continued looking out the window at the people yet to board. Everyone looked so happy, so normal… he envied them. His life had never been normal, even when he hadn't known he was a wizard. He was jealous of the fact that all those other people had stable, loving families while he had to go home to a group of muggles who despised and feared him. Those families didn't have a dark wizard after their blood, they were simply allowed to live their lives normally as they chose to. For a while he had thought that his life could return to something like normality with the return of Sirius but it was just not to be. Their lives were perfect and his never would be. He almost hated them for it. Almost.

These thoughts were so distracting that he almost fell off the seat when the train lurched suddenly forwards as the journey to Hogwarts commenced. Harry regained his composure after a second of looking rather stupid, pressing himself back into the seat, and squeezed his eyes shut to try and block out the parents who were waving goodbye to their children as the train left the station. However, their loving expressions seemed to be burned on his eyelids and he couldn't escape them no matter how hard he tried.

"Why can't I have that?"

"Pardon?"

At Hermione's inquiry, he looked up and realised he'd spoken out loud instead of continuing his internal diatribe. His face coloured slightly and he shook his head almost violently, averting his gaze out the window nervously. What a slip up. They would all think he was loony now.

"Nothing," said the Gryffindor, facing the passing scenery and missing the glance exchanged by the other occupants of the compartment.


	3. Chapter Two

"What do _you_ want, Malfoy?"

The sudden, and rather loud, outburst from Ron broke Harry out of his thoughts and he jerked his head up in surprise, following the ginger boy's glare over towards the entrance of the compartment. Blocking the doorway completely were three individuals and just the sight of them made him scowl immediately. It was hard to see that smug, pointy blond git without being reminded of a slightly older smug, pointy blond git who had been part of the reason Sirius had died.

Draco Malfoy's grey eyes swept over the occupants of the compartment coolly as he surveyed them all with an arrogant sneer, his ever present henchmen flanking him. He locked eyes with Harry for a moment, staring the boy down with a challenge in his expression, but then his face morphed back into its usual disdain for any lesser beings that was directed at the rest of them.

"Not that it's any of your business, Weasel, but I'm inspecting the compartments as per my Prefect duties," said the Slytherin with an air of innocence about his words, as if he wasn't just looking for a fight which he clearly was. Then he focused his cold gaze on Hermione and grimaced, as though her very presence pained him. "I thought I smelled something bad."

Ron leapt up out of his seat, brandishing his wand, and it was all Harry could do to stop the boy from launching himself at Malfoy. The green-eyed wizard firmly pressed his friend back down onto the seat, adding under his breath, "He's really not worth it, Ron."

Draco arched one blond eyebrow at the ginger Gryffindor, looking vaguely amused. "Watch yourself or I may have to give you a detention, _Weasel_."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered appreciatively at his words.

"You watch _yourself_," Hermione said, bristling at his audacity. "Now go away!"

For a moment, the grey-eyed one looked taken aback at her words and her tone—flashing back to that dreadful punch in third year—then he regained his composure and narrowed his eyes at her. "Are you going to make me go away, Mudblood? Go on then."

Draco's pale hand slid into his robes, no doubt going to grip his wand, but Hermione kept a worried silence. Was it worth it to just hex him real good? She was a Prefect and supposed to set a good example to the other students… Then again, so was the Slytherin and he was being a complete prat as usual. The girl opened her mouth to reply, finally, but she was cut off by Harry as he rose from the seat and tugged his wand out of his pocket.

"No, but I will," he spat, green eyes narrowed in anger at the other boy. His voice was low, hardened audibly by a lot of pent up aggression that he had not been able to vent for the whole summer.

"Oh really?" Draco asked, drawing his own wand out and smirking. "I don't think you can."

In unison, Crabbe and Goyle guffawed idiotically and then cracked their knuckles loudly in what they most likely thought, if indeed they possessed the ability to think at all, was a menacing way.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well we all know thinking isn't your strong suit."

Anger flashed across the Slytherin's face and then he whipped his wand forwards, hissing, "Incendio!"

Red light flashed as flames erupted out of the slim piece of wood, shooting ominously forwards as Ron gave a quick shout of, "Capillus Amotio!" and Harry cried, "Expelliarmus!"

The three separate spells crashed into each other, each separate light flaring almost blindingly bright, before they went flying off in different directions rapidly. Not wanting a repeat of the infamous Densaugeo incident, Hermione let out a panicked squeal and dropped down to the floor of the compartment, hands flung over her head, while the youngest Weasley remained rooted to the spot by the window.

The green light from Harry's wand hit Crabbe square in the chest and the beefy student went flying out of the door and down the corridor, landing with a thump by a group of terrified first years as his wand went soaring in the opposite direction. Ron's spell hit the ceiling with a crack and then rebounded down, striking the window with such force that the heat melted a hole in the glass. Ginny lurched away from it with a yelp, joining Hermione on the floor belatedly. The flames from Draco's hastily cast spell swirled around for a moment and then found a target, hitting Ron's robes. The boy let out a yell and danced around frantically, slapping at the flames sprouting on the material.

Seizing the opportunity to escape as chaos broke out in the compartment, Draco stuck his wand back into his robes and, after shoving roughly past Goyle, ran down the corridor to safety. The great lug of the boy stood there for a moment, mouth hanging open as he stared at the Gryffindors, and then he jogged off suddenly to catch up with Malfoy. After sitting down with the first years gaping at him for a minute, Crabbe staggered to his feet and followed the other two, stumbling in a slightly drunken fashion.

Hermione removed her hands from her head cautiously, looking up to make sure it was safe to do so, and then she squealed again as she saw Ron jumping around in an attempt to put the fire out. Yanking her wand out of her pocket as she scrambled up, she pointed it at his robes and then hurriedly chanted the incantation to an extinguishing spell.

"Exstinctum esse!"

As soon as the fire vanished, leaving only a few wisps of smoke that rose to the ceiling and left a rather unpleasant smell, Ron stopped hopping around.

"Took you long enough!" The boy yelled, patting his robes to make sure there was no damage done.

Hermione gaped at him and then huffed loudly, glaring. "A 'thank you' would be nice, you know! I could have just left you there to be burned alive, Ronald, but no… I decided to help because you're my friend. Obviously that isn't good enough!" she hissed, stalking out of the room and stomping off down the corridor until she was out of sight.

Ron and Harry exchanged bewildered glances then the black-haired boy rolled his eyes, sitting back down by the partially melted window and letting the soft breeze now coming in blow over his face refreshingly. "You walked right into that one, mate," said the Gryffindor with a grin, slipping his wand back into his robes and breathing a sigh of relief that they had all escaped unscathed.

"Shut up." Ron muttered, sitting down and crossing his arms over his chest sulkily. When Ginny gave him a disapproving look for how he had spoken to Hermione, he scowled at her and then turned his head to stare out the window, lips pursed.

The youngest Weasley looked over at Harry, who was also staring blankly out the window, and sighed. She was going to have to sit in silence like this until Hermione decided to grace them with her presence again. That just wouldn't do, however, so she tried to break the silence herself in a falsely cheerful voice.

"What was the spell you used, Ron?"

For a second he didn't acknowledge her then, finally, he turned his head to look at his sister. "It's an instant scalping hex… it removes hair instantly, stupid," he added as she stared blankly at him.

"Oh," said Ginny, blinking and then grinning at the mental image. "I wish it had worked! I'd love to see the look on Malfoy's face when he realised he had no hair left."

"Yeah… though I dunno if it would've pierced through all that gel on his fat head. Hexes can only do so much," Ron remarked with a slight smirk. "Maybe if his fire spell had backfired, it would've set it all on fire and then his head would've exploded."

The girl stared at her brother with a wide-eyed expression, then she shook her head. "I don't quite think that would happen, Ron…"

The Gryffindor's smirk disappeared and he glared at her. "You don't know that, you're only a stupid fifth year," he said aggressively, annoyed that she had ruined his little fantasy. "Might've worked…"

"Not likely," Harry muttered after snorting at the very idea.

The ginger male sputtered angrily, shocked that even his best friend wouldn't back him up on it, and then turned to stare mutinously out the window. Harry wasn't bothered; he concentrated on blocking out Ginny's voice as she tried to placate her brother, as he made a promise to himself that he'd give Draco what he deserved before the year was over.

Top of Form

Bottom of Form


	4. Chapter Three

Oooh boy, so it's been a while, eh? When I said 'soonish', obviously I meant a few years. P Terribly sorry about that, I'll make an effort to get the next chapter out a bit faster. I've got notebooks filled with little snippets from chapters to come and I've worked out what's gonna happen, I just need to get to work writing it down!

Anyway, I _know _there's still no slashy love with Draco/Harry but there IS some chemistry at least. Rome wasn't built in a day so you'll have to be patient but I promise it's coming (and I use that word with full emphasis) soon. ;)

* * *

A slight jolt as the train came to a stop was what awakened Harry from the light slumber that had descended over him for the majority of the journey, sending him forwards a little so that his head thunked lightly against the window. He had woken briefly once, blinking sleepily at his chattering friends and noticing that Hermione had come back, before falling back asleep against the compartment window.

The black-haired boy pushed himself away from the window, which was slightly fogged from his breath, and lifted his glasses a little to rub at his tired eyes. It was only as the boy cast a look around the compartment that he noticed they all seemed to have come by a rather large supply of sweets. Ginny caught him eyeing the sugar quill she was clutching and blushed, then Ron looked up from stuffing as much of it all as he could into the many deep pockets of his new robes.

"Hermione said we shouldn't disturb you when the food trolley came along," he explained to his best friend with a rather apologetic grin stretching his lips, giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes in the girl's direction.

The student in question shot Ron an exasperated glance then turned her attention to Harry. "You look tired, you know – are you sure you're getting enough sleep?"

Hermione's voice took on a motherly tone as she surveyed the green-eyed boy, concern evident in her features. He was saved from having to make an attempt at responding as the girl suddenly remembered she had to be somewhere else.

"Oh, Ron, hurry up! We have to help organise the first years!" With a brief smile to Harry and Ginny, she disappeared out through the open door of the compartment. Ron followed at a slower pace after shoving one last chocolate frog into his pocket, leaving grudgingly and muttering, "Bloody girls," as he went.

The two remaining students exchanged glances then grinned at each other, both reflecting momentarily on how much they seemed like an old married couple sometimes. Ginny pocketed the remaining sweets, making sure that they had left nothing behind, then followed Harry as he made his way off the Hogwarts Express.

* * *

Trudging into the Great Hall with the other students, Harry sat down at the Gryffindor table and, while waiting for the Sorting Ceremony to begin, gazed up at the enchanted ceiling. The sky was dark and murky, full of black clouds and dotted with stars in the gaps. A flash of lightning illuminated the already bright candle-lit room and Harry turned his focus to the front where McGonagall was leading the first years into the hall.

"Is it just me or do they get smaller each year?" Ron asked, squinting at the crowd of young people as he leaned over to talk to Harry.

"You're just getting taller." The boy replied, grinning at his friend. It was true though; every time he saw him fresh after the summer holidays, the lanky male seemed to have gotten even lankier. Harry himself was growing at a steady rate but was still quite a bit shorter - he supposed it was because Ron always had a large supply of food. Or maybe he was just destined to be average height? That would be typical, seeing as none of the other aspects of his life were exactly average by any description.

"Shh, it's starting!" Hermione hissed at them, waving a hand to get them to be quiet.

Ron sent the girl a mutinous look but did as he was told eventually, folding his arms rather sullenly across his chest then looking towards the front of the hall. Harry watched long enough to see McGonagall place the wrinkled old hat down onto the stool, then zoned out about a second after it started singing. His gaze drifted absently around the Great Hall, studying first his own table and then moving onto the others.

Harry gave a surprised jolt when he looked to the Slytherin table and found Draco already staring at him. After their little encounter on the train, he wasn't really surprised to find that the boy's eyes were angry. He returned the look steadily, eyes narrowed slightly until the blond smirked and looked away, muttering something to the girl next to him. She let out a giggle then, after glancing at Harry, laughed again.

With a frown, the Gryffindor finally turned away, and noticed that the Sorting had begun. He belatedly joined in the cheering as a small boy was placed into the house of the lion. He continued clapping and congratulating the new first years until, after what seemed like an age, Dumbledore finally stepped up to give his messages. The boy didn't really start listening until the old man announced the start of the feast, looking down eagerly to see the platters on the table filling with food.

Next to him, Ron rubbed his hands together readily, then delved in and piled his plate high with as much as he could get his hands on. Hermione settled with a small amount of mashed potatoes and some chicken, while Harry contentedly started spearing up sausages and placing them onto his plate. The noise level in the hall increased as students stared talking about their holidays while they ate, catching up with friends. After devouring three large pork sausages, Harry began on the chicken drumsticks, studiously ignoring Hermione as she tried to get him to have some vegetables. The boy was halfway through ripping meat away with his teeth when he once more felt eyes on him, and looked up to find Draco glaring at him... again.

"It must not be very stimulating at the Slytherin table if he has to keep looking over here." Hermione muttered to the green-eyed boy upon also noticing the glare, sending Draco what seemed like a warning look before returning to her mashed potatoes.

"Mhm." Harry agreed absently, glaring back at the Malfoy teenager for a second before taking a large bite out of the drumstick and joining in a conversation Ginny was having with Colin Creevey about Quidditch and the upcoming season at Hogwarts.

* * *

On the day of the first lesson of the year, Harry awoke feeling rather glum. He hadn't properly enjoyed a Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson for a long time, and he didn't suppose he would that day either. His first year hadn't been very stimulating, as the most interesting thing had been Quirrell's stutter, and Lockhart had just been embarrassing. Lessons with Lupin had been great but then he'd had to leave because of Snape's big mouth, and the next year with Moody would've been fine if it hadn't been straight after those. Well, and the fact that it wasn't really Alastor Moody but in fact some murderous Death Eater. And Umbridge... well, he didn't even want to think about her.

After getting ready with an equal lack of enthusiasm, the boy joined Ron and Hermione, and the trio made their way towards the DADA classroom.

"Who d'you think we've got this time?" Ron asked as they came to a stop outside the door, turning to his two friends. "They've got to be better than Umbridge, at least."

"Well that isn't exactly going to be hard to accomplish, is it?" Hermione said with a slight grin, shaking her head. She was the first through the door as usual, finding a desk right at the front of the classroom so she would be in prime position to answer any questions and impress the new teacher with her dazzling intellect, and sat down as the other two joined her.

Harry plonked down into his seat with a noisy sigh, pulling his things out of his bag before dumping it on the floor carelessly. He kept his eyes fixed miserably on his desk, staring at the nonsense students had carved into the wood across the years and wishing the lesson could be over with already. When excited whispers broke out from all of the students, he looked up to see what all the fuss was about... Blimey. For a moment he could only stare at the teacher who had entered the classroom and set their briefcase down onto the desk, his mouth hanging open in surprise.

"Harry, look, it's Professor Lupin!" Hermione hissed loudly across the gap between their desks, as though he hadn't already noticed, and elbowed him hard. He rubbed his arm absently, vibrant green eyes still fixed on the man at the front who was smiling cheerfully at the sixth year students as though he had been their teacher for years.

"Some of you may remember me from your third year," Lupin began, pausing to flash a quick smile in Harry's direction. "Professor Dumbledore was having, ah, slight trouble finding anyone who wanted the job, especially after the rather exaggerated account from Professor Umbridge. He asked me to help, seeing as I've taught you lot before and that means I'm a bit more prepared for your mischief than anyone else."

"But aren't you a..." A Slytherin started drawling loudly, the expression on her pasty face a mixture of worry and disdain as she decided to not finish the sentence and let him figure it out himself.

The smile faltered for a second then came back even brighter as Lupin took in her words, and thought about what to say. "The school governors all know what I am," he paused to grimace, and then continued. "If Professor Dumbledore did not have full confidence in me and thought that I might be dangerous to you all, rest assured that I would not be here now. If at any point in my duration here as your teacher he believes that I may pose a threat to any of you for whatever reason, I will be removed post haste."

Harry glared at the girl who had spoken up, angry that she had made the man uncomfortable only five minutes into the lesson. It seemed that the Slytherins were the only ones with a problem concerning having a werewolf for a teacher, especially that worm Malfoy who looked like he'd swallowed something nasty. All of the Gryffindors, with the exception of possibly Lavender and Parvati who both looked a little queasy, were grinning at the chance to have Remus Lupin as their DADA professor once again.

"All right, enough talk. We have wasted enough of the lesson as it is, let's begin." Lupin cleared his throat, placing his hands flat down onto the desk in front of him. "I thought we'd start this year off with some practical work as I've heard you lot prefer to learn like that." His lips twitched slightly, as though he were holding back a smile.

After a pause, Harry realised he was probably referring to the group that had gotten together last year to teach themselves what Umbridge wouldn't. Dumbledore's Army.

"If everyone would please stand up, take their wands out and grab a partner." The professor requested, picking his own wand up from where it had been on the desk. While the students busied themselves with finding a partner for whatever Lupin had planned, he began polishing the slim piece of wood on his sleeve until he could nearly see his own reflection in it.

Ron and Hermione had almost immediately stood next to each other after leaving their seats but upon realising that, they glanced at each other uneasily then at Harry. The green-eyed male looked up after pulling his wand out of the inner-pocket of his robes, and noticed them staring at him as though he had suddenly sprouted a third head.

"What?" The boy asked, looking from Ron to Hermione, then back again.

"Who's going to go with who?" The Gryffindor girl asked, chewing worriedly on her bottom lip. As Harry analysed the situation before him, he realised their minds were already made up. The two had moved together automatically and that was that, they just wanted to make sure that he didn't mind too much really.

He stared at her for a moment longer then let out a just about inaudible sigh, so as to not worry her. The girl was dead annoying when she got it in her head that he wasn't fine and dandy; she just pestered and pestered and pestered until sometimes the boy felt like just making something up to satisfy her and make her leave him alone for a few minutes. "I don't mind, you two can partner up. It doesn't matter to me."

"Oh, are you sure?" Hermione questioned, looking concerned for a moment after having grinned at Ron. "Who will you be with then?"

Harry opened his mouth to reply, then shut it again as he knew he wasn't sure, and gave a shrug. Suddenly a pair of strong hands clapped down onto his shoulders and he jumped, looking around.

"Harry is going to come with me and give some examples for the class to follow." Lupin declared in a jovial tone, nodding in greeting to Hermione and Ron before steering the boy to the front of the classroom by his shoulders. The green-eyed student didn't exactly get much say in the matter as he didn't really have anyone else to go with anyway (Neville had somehow ended up with a tall Slytherin girl) and the teacher's grip was too firm to argue against. The werewolf was set on using him to demonstrate to the class.

"All right, you all paired up? Good. Now, please stand facing each other with your wands in front of you, like so." The teacher got into the position he had just instructed the students to, then nudged Harry who eventually did the same with a dubious expression. "Watch closely what Harry and I do, as you're going to do it yourselves when we're done. I don't want to have to show you again, so concentrate!"

* * *

Even after going to bed feeling good about Defence Against the Dark Arts, as it had probably been the best lesson he'd had in years, Harry was again feeling miserable as he walked with his two friends down to the dungeons. Although Potions had the potential to be an interesting lesson, the combination of Snape as the teacher and having to take the class with Slytherin made it rather less enjoyable, in fact so much so that he tended to dread the lessons.

Sitting down in a seat as far to the back of the room as he could manage, after evading a deliberately stuck out foot of one spotty-faced Slytherin, the green-eyed male resigned himself to yet another tortuous lesson of being picked on by the greasy, slimy, biased Snape. Would that toad never leave him alone, never realise it wasn't his fault his dad had been a prat sometimes, never just withdraw his head from his arse?

Said teacher strode into the room with his black robes whirling out behind him, positively slamming the heavy door behind him before stalking over to his desk. For a moment, the Professor merely stared imperiously around at the students in the classroom, eyes narrowing into a glare when he caught sight of Harry sitting at the back. It was as though the boy's very existence pained him and that just the sight of him made his blood boil. The sixth year glared back, thinking that he felt the exact same way about Snape.

"This year, you will be looking at the more advanced potions on the syllabus, and will focus on the practical work more than the theory. We will begin the year with the concoction you will be brewing today, known simply as the Unctuous Unction."

Snape flicked his wand at the blackboard behind the desk, enchanting a piece of chalk to write the name of the potion onto the black surface. He examined the meticulously neat writing for a moment, then turned abruptly with his cloak swirling out around him. His gazed flicked from student to student, each one sinking down in their seat to avoid incurring his wrath, eventually settling on Harry as his lips twisted into a spiteful smirk. "Potter," he snapped, the smirk widening. "Who created the potion?"

The black-haired boy frowned at the question, racking his brains for anything to give as an answer but he couldn't even think of a random person's name to give in substitution for the right one. The longer he took to reply, the nastier the look on Snape's face became, so he eventually gave a slight shrug and shook his head. "I don't know... sir."

"No? Disappointing, yet not surprising. Weasley, what are the effects of the Unctuous Unction?" The dark-eyed teacher demanded of the redhead, mean expression still set in place. The rest of the students were watching the debacle as though it was some huge source of entertainment, with the Slytherins waiting eagerly for some bloodshed.

Ron froze as attention turned to him, freckles standing out starkly as his face paled quite a few shades to a sickly grey colour. Swallowing nervously, though it was hard as it felt as though a snitch had deposited itself in his throat, his eyes darted sideways to glance at Hermione, before returning to the greasy face of the Potions Master.

"Well, Weasley? Any idea of the right answer in that empty head?"

"No, sir." The boy replied in a quiet voice, trying to keep his dislike for Snape in check as he didn't want to make matters worse. A detention from their first Potions lesson of the year would hardly be his idea of a good start.

The professor shook his head as though he was disappointed but had expected it, which he probably had seeing as it was doubtful that anyone in the class actually knew the answer with the obvious exception of Miss Know-It-All herself. "I see neither of you have bothered to crack a book all summer, even though I _specifically _told you to read through the Potions textbook for this year!" Snape's eyes flashed dangerously and he slammed himself down into the chair behind his desk.

"Do any of you actually know anything?" The man demanded of the students, lips pursed tightly. "Does anyone know the answer to my questions? _Anyone?_" Hermione's hand immediately shot up into the air, waving around as though this was the most important thing in the world but it was to Draco whom the teacher looked. "Malfoy?"

The blond glanced sideways at Hermione as he was called upon to speak, grey eyes intently studying the girl who was stretching as far as she could out of her seat to get the Professor's attention. The corners of his lips curved in a smirk and he nodded curtly. "The Unctuous Unction was created by Gregory the Smarmy, Professor, and it makes the drinker of the potion believe that the person who made it is their best friend."

"Excellently explained. Ten points to Slytherin for your effort."

"How'd he know that!" Ron demanded in a hissed whisper, staring incredulously at the git of a student before looking to Harry and Hermione for an explanation. The other two were looking equally confused, though the latter also looked put out. She would have liked to show the rest of the class that she knew the answer too!

Draco heard the not-so-subtle question, and turned to the lanky boy with his usual smarmy expression. "I wouldn't expect _you_ to know something like that Weasley. Only those who possess a brain better than that of a flobberworm would think to look in the textbook before term started so that automatically rules you out."

Harry narrowed his eyes at the Slytherin, frowning. "That doesn't explain why _you_ know then, Malfoy," he remarked calmly, raising both of his eyebrows at him.

The blond's lips curled in a sneer as Ron guffawed delightedly, and he opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by Snape, who issued the students their instructions and stopped any further argument.

"If you are _quite_ finished, Potter, we will now make the Unctuous Unction. Before we begin, however, I am making a few changes to the current seating arrangement with the hopes that my revisions will stop you all disrupting my lesson with your nonsense." His eyes seemed rather cruel as they flitted to Harry, before the man started gesturing with his wand at various students. A fuming Ron ended up with Crabbe, while Hermione had to relocate to the table housing the delightful Pansy Parkinson.

Snape looked to the two remaining students, smirking. "Potter, you're with Malfoy. You should have all the ingredients you need in your potions kit, however there are some at the side if you failed to use your head and come prepared. The instructions are on the board." He paused, swishing his wand at the blackboard again, and white writing came up detailing the ingredients and procedure for the mixture. "If brewed correctly, the end result should be deep purple, so everyone will know if you got it wrong."

Harry sent a glare in Draco's direction, then stood up so fast that he nearly knocked his chair over, and went to collect the ingredients lacking from his kit from the side. Hermione gave him a sympathetic look before busying herself with Pansy, and the boy went back to the blond's table with an armful of various materials. He then set to work preparing the items closest to him, studiously ignoring the boy next to him at the table with the hopes that if he just thought it really hard, the git would actually disappear.

About twenty minutes later, Snape announced that their time was up, and began checking the finished potions. Well, mostly finished... The cauldron Neville shared with Goyle was bubbling furiously, as they hadn't yet taken it off the fire, and the man's disapproval was clear as he stared down at them. After issuing some snappy orders to the two students, the concoction was ladled into a vial and left to cool. When he had finished looking at each and every pair's work, he positioned himself at the front once more.

"Each of you is to drink some of the Unctuous Unction," he paused, staring around at the students as they let out groans, "And your homework is to write up the effects." The class all exchanged nervous glances and Snape frowned. "Well, what are you waiting for? Go on!"

Harry scooped up some of the liquid with a ladle, dumping it into a stone bowl and staring dubiously down at it. He scrunched up his nose, deciding he really didn't want to try it after all, and then placed the bowl down in front of Draco. The blond blinked for a moment, looking down at the liquid, then sneered as his brows furrowed in a frown.

"Scared?" Harry asked with the beginnings of a smirk, challenge clear in his voice as he quirked one dark eyebrow at Draco. The Slytherin scowled at the challenge to his manhood, pursing his lips in a rather good impression of the greasy teacher at the front of the room, and then took another look down at the potion in the bowl.

"You wish, Potter." To make the statement even more convincing, the boy got a spoonful of the liquid and raised it to his lips, pausing only a moment to glare at Harry before swallowing it all in one gulp. His eyes started to water almost immediately as the mixture slid down his throat like some slimy disgusting gunk (which it was, really) and his face scrunched up as though he had just swallowed some excrement. Draco coughed, covering his mouth with a pale hand and then depositing the spoon back down into the bowl.

Not wanting to be outdone as he stared down at the potion, Harry scooped up another spoonful and promptly gulped down the lot of it. His insides gave a lurch right away, as though they were shifting around, and for a moment it felt like his stomach was full of something heavy... like Mrs Weasley's meatloaf. Eurgh. The boy blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision from the pink and purple dots that had started dancing across it, and gave a wild shake of his head. The aftertaste in his mouth was bitter and salty, and he fancied that he could feel the potion sliding down his throat then making its way through his body.

"What's this meant to do again?" The Gryffindor enquired when he felt relatively normal again, glancing around at the rest of the class for signs of change. None of them looked any different but you could never really tell with potions, especially student-brewed ones.

Draco gave an exasperated sigh, having also recovered from his reaction to the vile potion, then shot the boy a derisive look. "It's supposed to make the person who drinks it think that the person who made it, or who gave it to them, is their best friend. Stupid."

Harry blinked in slight confusion, trying to figure out if he felt any different about the boy next to him. How could you tell? Did your feelings just change and you felt it immediately, or was it gradual, or what? This was definitely not the best potion for their first lesson of the year. After studying the blond for a moment, he decided he hated him just as much as he normally did. The smarmy-faced git was definitely not best friend material.

"I don't think it worked." Draco mused, peering down at the remains of the potion in the cauldron with a thoughtful expression. He seemed unused to the idea of his creations not functioning correctly, which was weird as Harry had never really thought of him as a high achiever. But he supposed he had never really looked beyond the blinding arrogance and painfully obnoxious personality to see that the Slytherin was actually quite intelligent for a vile little cockroach. With a frown, the grey-eyed boy put both hands on his hips in the very image of indignation and annoyance. "What did you do wrong, Scarhead?"

"What! _I've _done something wrong? We both worked on the stupid Unctitty-whatsit, there's just as much chance you messed it up as I did!" The Boy-Who-Just-Wouldn't-Die replied angrily, dropping the spoon carelessly back into the bowl, making some of the dregs of purple liquid splash onto his school robes.

Draco's eyes narrowed as though he had just been mortally offended, drawing himself up and suddenly looking rather scarily like his father. "I am _never _wrong, Potter, nor do I _ever _make mistakes. This was all your doing." He glanced down at the potion, then frowned. "See, it's too dark, you obviously put too much fluxweed in. Idiot."

"You're wrong about a lot of things, Malfoy!" Harry spat, anger flaring up inside of him at the sheer arrogance of the blond twit. "Like this bloody potion, for example!"

"Potter, Malfoy!" A sharp voice rang out across the room, making both boys look around. "Although I'm sure your classmates would love to hear the rest of your conversation, I'm sure they would much prefer to _go to lunch. _So kindly shut up and pack your things away!"

Harry glared balefully at Draco, deciding at that moment that everything that ever went wrong in the world was his stupid blond fault, then snatched his bag up from under the table and joined the others as they left the classroom. The Slytherin could clear their stuff up alone, hmph! Something, or maybe someone, bashed into the black-haired boy as he vacated the room with Ron and Hermione, nearly knocking him over.

"Sorry Harry!" Neville yelled with an apologetic look as he ran past, appearing rather green around the gills. Before he had disappeared into the distance, he made a loud gagging noise and threw a hand over his mouth, increasing his speed through the dungeons.

Malfoy came sauntering out of the classroom in a confident swagger, Crabbe and Goyle flanking him as usual, and Harry wondered if he had just gotten those two to clean up after him. While he was speculating about that, Draco thumped him with his shoulder as he went past, knocking him out of his thoughts. Before anyone said anything else, Goyle suddenly went very pale and ran off, looking like he was about to throw up.

Hermione frowned after him, shaking her head. "I don't think they did their potion right, you know. I saw Neville put in two handfuls of hedgehog quills instead of one and a half, and Goyle stirred it anti-clockwise instead of clockwise, but Snape was hanging over my shoulder so I couldn't say anything to them."

"Think Neville will be all right?" Ron asked, staring off in the direction the boy had gone, his concern overridden by his amusement at the situation.

"Madam Pomfrey will sort him out, don't worry." Hermione said firmly, as though she had every confidence in the talents of the school's mediwitch. Which she probably did.

* * *

There we go. I tried to make it a bit longer to make up for the years of waiting, haha. If you've got anything at all to say about this chapter (whether it's praise, suggestions or marriage proposals) then feel free to review. It makes my ego and my muse feel better, you see, which makes me inclined to update more regularly! See, everyone's a winner. 


	5. Chapter Four

Aw, well, you turnips didn't show me the love with your reviews but never fear, I'm updating anyway. I've got no ranting to do about my time wasting for once so I'll just get on with the show! Here it is, after just a couple of days… CHAPTER FOUR! Woo.

* * *

The trio were making their way to the Great Hall for lunch after the Potions lesson when Pansy Parkison went past, having left the classroom a little late as she'd needed to talk to Snape. She smiled brightly at Hermione as she passed by and the Gryffindor girl waved cheerfully back. Harry and Ron exchanged a look at this display of friendliness, staring at her like she'd gone completely bloody insane.

"I take it your potion worked then?" The green-eyed male asked, a touch of humour present in his voice. Of _course_ it had worked; she never did anything wrong. It was just bizarre to observe the effects of this particular one.

"Oh, I don't know," Hermione answered, shrugging her shoulders. "I've always liked Pansy, she's such a nice girl."

"Since when is that pug-nosed idiot nice?" Ron asked in disbelief, staring at her. "You remember what she said about you in the Daily Prophet that time, don't you?"

This elicited an angry look from Hermione. "Ron Weasley, you are a nasty little toad! Grow up!" With that, the girl stomped off, walking stiffly and looking very red in the face.

Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times, in a remarkable impression of a rather surprised fish, then turned to Harry for support or at least confirmation that he hadn't just shoved his foot down his own throat. The latter merely shrugged, shaking his head. He just couldn't win with these two, they were always putting him in the middle.

"That potion is weird," he offered, hoping that would be enough of a consolation.

"Yeah, you can say that again," the redhead agreed, frowning.

"That potion is weird!" Seamus Finnigan remarked as he walked past, watching Dean Thomas conversing with a Slytherin just ahead of them in the dungeons.

"Yeah, you can say—"

"Shut up Ron," Harry interrupted, punching him on the arm. "Come on, I'm starving."

The Boy Who Was Rather Hungry started walking faster after grinning at Seamus, with Ron following obediently behind as they made their way towards the Great Hall. Upon arriving and sitting down at the Gryffindor table, Harry suddenly noticed that Hermione wasn't there. Had she been so pissed off that she'd decided to just skip lunch entirely? Uh oh. He was just looking around for any sight of her when suddenly a chorus of excited whispers started up and Ron whacked him hard on the arm.

"What the bloody hell is Hermione doing at the effing Slytherin table?" he demanded, looking furious as he stared over at the table.

Harry didn't reply and instead just gaped open-mouthed at the spectacle. His friend was sitting talking cheerfully to Pansy, completely oblivious to the glares of the rest of the Slytherins and the tall boy looming over her. It was only when Malfoy actually spoke, loudly enough for everyone to hear, that she looked up at him finally.

"Listen, you little mudblood freak, if you don't—" he stopped suddenly as a loud crack resounded through the Great Hall and a stinging sensation spread across his face. A red spot flared up on his pale face immediately.

"Don't you speak to her like that! Don't you dare!" Pansy screeched, sounding a bit like a banshee as she waved her hand menacingly at the male. Whoa.

Harry grinned at the shocked expression on the blond's face; that had just made his day… no, his year! Draco was so used to people being wrapped around his little finger, so having one of his prime admirers stand up to him over a _Gryffindor _of all people was surely the worst blow that he could receive. Upon noticing that the people around were staring and laughing, the Slytherin shoved past the still fuming Pansy and stalked off, choosing the path that took him past the Gryffindor table so that he could bump into Harry as he made his way out of the Great Hall.

"Did you see the look on his face!" Ron laughed, watching the retreating blond with an expression of pure delight. Once he'd turned back to his friend, he frowned suddenly. "Wait, how come you and Malfoy aren't acting like best buddies? Not that I'm complaining, though, I think that'd probably make me throw up!"

Harry shrugged, looking as though he didn't really care either way. Which he didn't, of course. "I dunno. That prat must've done something wrong." Once he'd finished talking, he started piling food onto his plate, hoping to think about something other than Draco Bloody Malfoy for once. Was that so much to ask for?

* * *

By the time dinner had come and gone, the effects of the potion had worn off and all of the students were pretty much back to normal. As they sat in the Gryffindor common room after all of the excitement of the day, Hermione was suitable embarrassed about the whole thing. She could hardly believe she'd actually had lunch at the Slytherin table (and had Pansy defend her to Draco!) and all she wanted to do was forget about it but that was rather difficult when random younger students kept approaching the girl to talk to her and ask lots of annoying questions about her strange behaviour at lunch.

Once the millionth first year had disappeared, the girl slumped back against the armchair she was seated in, sighing noisily. "I'm never going to get this Potions homework done if I keep being bothered. This is ridiculous! They should just mind their own business."

"At least you've got something to write about," Ron said, throwing down his quill with frustration and nearly knocking over the ink pot that had been set down on the table in front of them. "My potion looked so disgusting that I didn't even bother trying it. It's not meant to be lumpy and slightly green, is it?"

"Well that's your own fault! You should have tried harder and done it right, then there'd be no problem" Hermione paused in her tirade to shoo away a curious second year, then turned her attention to Harry, who had just been sitting in silence in the common room since dinner. "What about you, Harry? Have you got anything to write about?

"His didn't work, he's as stuck as I am." Ron answered for him, grinning and elbowing the boy.

The green-eyed Gryffindor barely even registered the other two talking, only enough to think to himself that Ron wasn't completely correct. He _did _have something to write about for the homework. Ever since he'd sampled that bloody potion, his thoughts had been consumed with Malfoy's face, his voice, his… everything. The blond was so infuriating, he just wanted to find him and beat him up but he didn't really know why. Obviously Harry wasn't very fond of Malfoy normally but this was different, it was… almost irrational.

The boy stood up, looking very decisive all of a sudden. Hermione stared up at him, expression one of confusion as he grabbed his school bag and started off towards the common room without so much as a word of explanation.

"Where are you going?"

"Library. Gonna research," he answered vaguely, waving her off with a hand then rushing off. As he disappeared out through the portrait, the two remaining sixth years exchanged a look, clearly worried and confused about their friend. What on Earth had him so restless and worked up? They certainly didn't know.

* * *

"Tantalising Tonic… Triple-Trust Potion… Ah, here we are! Unctuous Unction. Okay, let's see… 'The Unctuous Unction is in theory a simple potion to brew as it requires relatively uncomplicated methods, however the individual amounts to be used for each ingredient are extremely specific and important for the success of the concoction."

Well that didn't help him at all. Harry skimmed down the page of small writing, missing out huge chunks of useless information until he finally found a section that was much more relevant to his search. He didn't care about the properties of the potion or the exact way to make it, he just wanted one detail in particular.

"Right… 'There are many undesirable effects that can crop up if the potion is not made correctly. These range from extreme nausea to violent moodswings to, in extreme cases—"

The boy was just about to find out what exactly the worst effects possible were when suddenly a shadow loomed over him, blocking out the dim candle light so that he couldn't make the words out. Harry looked up slowly, expression becoming one of extreme distaste as he saw that it was Draco Malfoy stopping him from continuing. How typical, that boy was as ever the large thorn in his side.

"She said you have it. Give it to me now, Potter."

"What?" Harry asked, looking mystified.

"Ye Olde Potions Booke, moron," Draco elaborated in a snappy tone, staring down at the Gryffindor until he lost his patience and snatched the book away. Harry lurched up, knocking his chair over loudly in the process, and made a grab at the book.

"I'm not finished with that!"

His attempt at getting the book back was unsuccessful as the taller boy held it out of his reach. Oh, how bloody annoying was that! If only he'd spent more time eating vegetables at dinner instead of munching on thick sausages, maybe he would have gained enough inches to finally be as tall as his blond rival.

"You are now," Draco sneered, shoving the book inside his robes to deter the sixth year further, as surely he wouldn't dare to actually _touch_ him. With a cry of "Give it back, Malfoy!" Harry lunched forwards, hands sliding under the thin material and groping about for the book. With his free hand, the blond started slapping at the hands on his body, until the Gryffindor shoved forwards and they toppled onto the floor.

The two boys landed hard on the rough floor, rolling about for a second with a lot of grunting until Harry finally managed to pin Draco down, almost ripping at his clothes as he tried to wrestle the book away. It wasn't so much about that now, though; it was more that he had the boy exactly where he wanted him, straddled and barely able to move. He was almost completely at his mercy, so it wasn't hard to grab the book out and hold it triumphantly in the air.

"BE QUIET AND STOP FIGHTING RIGHT NOW!" The librarian screamed in outrage, eyes popping and spit flying out of her mouth at the sight she beheld. "You've both got detention! Be back here at 8:00pm sharp or you'll regret it. Now get out!"

The two boys scrambled up, looking dishevelled and flustered as they glared at each other. Draco went to take the book one last time but stopped when the librarian screeched at him, instead scowling at Harry and hurrying out. After grabbing up his school bag, the Gryffindor gave a sullen stare at the woman in charge of the library then smoothed his uniform down, walking out stiffly as he tried to keep his anger in check.

* * *

Eight o'clock came all too quickly for Harry's liking. He was ushered out of the common room by a disapproving Hermione, who could hardly believe that he'd picked a fight with Malfoy in the library of all places. The girl wasn't at all surprised to hear that he had a detention and wanted to make sure he wasn't late to it, so she was almost kicking him out of the room in her frenzy to make sure he did actually go to the detention.

The boy arrived exactly on time, cursing Hermione in his head as he walked inside the library to wait. The ugly old woman was behind the desk, watching him with beady eyes as if expecting him to do anything else that she could punish him for. The Gryffindor was about to let out a frustrated yell when suddenly Draco decided it was time to grace them with his presence, swaggering into the library like he was a celebrity or something. Oh, he wished he could just leap on him and punch his lights out but that was what had gotten them here in the first place, after all, so perhaps it wasn't a good idea at the moment.

"You're late," the librarian hissed to the Slytherin, pointing up at the large clock on the wall. "I was just going to keep you until 9:30 but now you've got at least another half an hour as your punishment." Harry shot a smug look at Draco, until the woman added, "That goes for both of you."

The Gryffindor spluttered, looking outraged at this. Draco merely stood there sullenly, arms crossed across his chest as though he was a child who'd just had his favourite toy taken away. His private consolation was that at least Harry wouldn't get away early either, and the student in question was still looking gobsmacked at the unfairness of it all. Why did things like this always happen to him? And why did the stupid git have to be late? HE'D made an effort to be on time… ooh, it just wasn't fair.

"Earlier this afternoon, Peeves decided it would be funny to throw all the books in the back of the library on the floor. Both of you are going to put every single book back onto the shelves, making sure it's all in the correct order. You are NOT allowed to use magic to complete this task. If you cannot reach a shelf, use the ladders or the stools provided. If you don't finish tonight, you'll be back tomorrow to make sure you do," the woman finished with a nasty smile, gesturing to the back with a hand to indicate that they should get started soon if they wanted to finish before they were both old and grey.

The two boys exchanged a venomous look then both simultaneously stalked off towards the back, which was abandoned seeing as it was quite late and most of the interesting books weren't at the back anyway. It was only the dull Transfiguration NEWT students that routinely searched at the back of the library, going through all the different books on animagus transformations and animate to inanimate transformations. Although there was the odd student who went there to look in the books that had interesting sections about transfiguration for use in the bedroom, but that was a bit rarer in occurrence.

Once they'd reached the section they had to sort out, Harry could only stare in horror. Every single book had been deposited on the floor and they were in varying degrees of turmoil; some were open, some were hidden under the tables and a few looked like they were going to fall apart if they weren't handled with care. Merlin, this was going to take all bloody night! The Gryffindor sighed, glancing sideways at Draco who was looking equally put out at the task before them. When he caught the sixth year looking at him, the blond scowled, as he clearly felt it was his fault they were there in the first place.

"Get started!" The librarian's screech came right from the other end of the library, making both students jump and glare at each other before starting on the job.

Harry leaned down, snatching up a book on animate transfiguration and shoving it into place with the shelf. He pushed it into place with such vigour that a cloud of dust came out, surrounding his head and making him cough. At this, Draco laughed loudly, glad that he had at least the other boy's stupidity to keep him amused during the attention.

"Shut up," The Gryffindor snapped, once the dust had stopped flying around.

"Make me." Draco drawled, suddenly lobbing the book he had in Harry's direction. The Boy Who Was Pissed Off caught it, thanks to his superior seeking skills, and scowled before placing it on the shelf.

"I will, don't you worry," he growled, sending the blond a warning glare before turning his back and trying to get on with the job. The sooner they'd sorted out all the books, the sooner he'd be able to get the hell out of there and away from Malfoy. If it meant putting up with the other boy's insults and rampant moronic behaviour, then so be it. He would just have to be a bit more thick-skinned than usual, wouldn't he?

About an hour passed, with the sixth years sorting out books and placing them in the correct order on the shelves without much being said. There was the occasional exchange of insults when one did something wrong or otherwise did anything to warrant a comment but mostly they just got on with it, each working quickly to try and get through the detention with as little fuss as possible. At this point, however, Harry was tired of the constant action of lifting heavy books up onto the shelves, and decided to sit down for a couple of minutes. That couldn't hurt, right?

Plonking himself down on one of the hard stools, the boy glanced over to see how Draco was doing. The Slytherin was currently stretched right up onto his tiptoes, trying to place a book onto one of the higher shelves. Harry found his eyes were drawn to his stomach, as though by magic. Due to the fact that he was reaching so high, his shirt had lifted up slightly and exposed the flesh there. It was so smooth and pale, it looked as though it were made of porcelain. The Gryffindor was captivated.

"What are you looking at?"

The sudden voice broke his trance and Harry jumped, looking up at his face suddenly. The blond was staring down at him as though he had been doing something extremely peculiar… which he had, actually. It wasn't every day that he found himself staring at Malfoy and contemplating what his skin felt like to touch.

"Your ugly face, what does it look like?" The green-eyed student responded automatically, scowling. He stood up abruptly and moved back over to the shelves, grabbing a book from the floor and shoving it violently into place. He was imagining that the shelf was Draco's face and the book was in fact his fist, as that was exactly what he wanted to be doing at that precise moment.

"Find something else to stare at, fag," Malfoy muttered, tossing a book carelessly onto the top shelf and hoping that the librarian wouldn't notice.

Harry froze on the spot, a textbook called 'Sexy Transfiguration for Sexy People' halfway towards the shelf. Slowly he turned to stare at the other boy, the book dropping out of his grip and clattering noisily onto the floor. Had he just called him what he thought he did? Because if so… he was in for a world of pain right now.

"What did you say?" The Gryffindor demanded, hands clenched by his sides. Merlin, how he loathed him right now. The smug expression on his face made him want to scream, it made his insides boil and all he wanted to do was punch him. Yeah, he'd punch the boy so hard that he'd fall over, and then he'd jump on him and pummel him into oblivion. Mm, yeah, that was it—he'd straddle the boy so he couldn't get away, right, he'd straddle those slender hips, he'd ride him, he'd… Harry stopped that train of thought abruptly, staring at Draco in bewilderment.

"Need to get your ears cleaned out… fag?" The Slytherin repeated, putting his own book down and walking slowly towards Harry. They were close now, so close, and to the blond it was just the chance for another fight but Harry… he was scared that if they got any closer, he would just fall into those icy grey depths. Draco's tongue flicked out and moistened his lips as he waited for a response or a punch, anything, and the green-eyed one felt his throat go dry. He wanted, he wanted… what did he want? Merlin, he wanted to touch those lips, those full sensuous lips. They were irresistible, calling to him, and they were so close now that he felt if he simple inhaled, they would be drawn together.

Without warning, Harry's fist came flying down like a piston, smashing into Draco's jaw. The blond stumbled back, holding his face and wincing at the pain that had flared up. When he lowered his hand, the Gryffindor realised that his lip was bleeding. Oh, he'd touched those lips all right—he'd ripped the skin of those soft lips, tarnished their beauty. Wait—beauty?—no, they weren't, he was just tired after all of this work. Goddamn.

In a blur of movement, Draco lunged forwards, grabbing Harry by his collar and pulling him in close once more. The black-haired sixth year was breathless, shocked at the sudden action and completely unsure how to react. They were so close now that their bodies were almost pressed against each other, eyes locked together intensely.

"You'll regret that, you arse," The blond hissed, his warm breath tickling Harry's face. Without any warning, he was being shoved backwards roughly, falling into the table and sprawling over it as he'd lost control of his own limbs practically. Just as Draco was advancing on him, looking positively murderous with blood trickling down from his lip, the librarian appeared around the corner and he halted his movements immediately.

"Your time is up." The woman said, glancing round to mark their progress. Apart from the two books that had been dropped just seconds ago, they were pretty much done. "That'll do, don't come back tomorrow. But if I see either of you so much as raising your voice in my library ever again, you'll regret being born!"

Harry took that as a signal to leave, scrambling away from the table and glancing warily at Draco before hurriedly making his escape. He could hear heavy footsteps behind him so, suddenly letting his pride go, he let caution go to the wind and just ran, feet pounding on the floor until he had reached the common room.

* * *

And there you have it, chapter four! Remember, reviews happy authors! You want me to be happy, don't you? Don't you:( Either way, I hope you enjoyed that. The next chapter will be up within the next few weeks, though it may be a lot sooner if my muse continues to be so full of nice ideas. Hehe. And, yes, feel free to celebrate raucously at the first signs of slashy man-love! 


	6. Chapter Five

Well, I had intended on leaving this fic on hiatus until I'd finished my other work but, to be honest, I can't resist continuing it. I've just had a need to submerge myself in the Potterverse since Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows and the film OotP came out. I'm so sad it's all over for the books… but here's to JKR changing her mind and filling in the gaps at the end (and hopefully including a brief Draco/Harry affair before they both settle for the straight life). Please do try and review if you read it. Cheers!

* * *

Pale moonlight came in through the window beside the four-poster bed, casting an eerie glow over the boy under the covers. In an almost violent motion, he heaved over onto his side, staring into space with a frustrated expression on his face. Ron's loud snoring pushed against his eardrums like the noise of a drill, while Neville's whimpering and murmuring—"No, Snape… grnnghh… don't know the answer… unghh… no, don't! Naaaargh!"—was a constant hum in the background. His own soft breathing seemed unnaturally quiet amongst all of this.

Harry Potter lifted a hand to rub at his eyes wearily, cursing himself for his inability to get some much needed sleep like the other Gryffindors. His brain was refusing to stop whirring madly around, replaying the same thoughts and memories from the previous events in the library over and over. All the boy could think of was Draco-Bloody-Malfoy; of his stupid slicked back hair, of his sickly pale skin and of his tantalisingly full lips that begged to be touched.

As that traitorous thought entered his head, the sixth year flipped angrily onto his stomach, burying his face in the soft white pillow. Never before had the Slytherin consumed his mind so thoroughly. It had to be the potion's so-called 'undesirable effects'. He'd been spared the extreme nausea in lieu of turning into a—a—no, he couldn't even think the word. Not in connection with Malfoy. The very thought sickened him and yet, at the same time, something in the back of his head was singing a very different tune.

Harry seized the pillow violently and pressed it over his head, as if covering his ears would make it all go away. The minutes ticked by at a flobberworm's pace but eventually the boy fell asleep, only to be chased through his dreams by a pair of cold grey eyes.

---

"Oi!"

The sudden shout and sensation of a shoe hitting his leg ripped Harry out of his dreams, and he stirred, groggily, as the unwelcome voice saw fit to once again invade his sensitive ears.

"Harry, mate, get up. It's time for breakfast!" Ron announced with far too much cheer, removing his shoe from the back of Harry's knee and proceeding to rip the covers away.

Without them as a barrier, the Gryffindor gave up on his attempt at ignoring the boy and sat up with a grumble. He ran a hand lightly through his hair, trying to flatten a severe case of bedhead, then gave up and put his glasses on. Ron came into focus, already dressed and raring to head down to the Great Hall for some breakfast. This kind of early morning alertness was rare in his housemate and, right at this moment, it was annoying to say the least. Who in their right mind would be so excited about getting up this early on a Saturday?

"Are you possessed or what?" Harry asked irritably, climbing out of bed and quickly changing into a pair of jeans and an oversized red sweater that had once been Dudley's.

The ginger male was unfazed by the crankiness aimed at him and grinned, almost bouncing up and down in his apparent excitement. "You didn't forget that it's the Quidditch try-outs today, did you, mate?"

Harry's mouth dropped open in surprise. Quidditch try-outs?! Then the memory came back to him, with a vague sense of doom, of agreeing to let Ron handle posting the announcement and sorting the arrangements, after he'd begged and begged to do it for hours. The last thing he wanted to do today was get on a broom, let alone have to shoulder the responsibility of choosing the team for the upcoming year of Quidditch at Hogwarts. The captain's badge had arrived in the holidays to a mingled sense of happiness and horror from The Boy Who Lived. He felt that there was no way he would be able to measure up to Wood or Angelina and he was sure Gryffindor were doomed.

"No, no, I remember," he said, feigning a grin to the best of his ability at his best friend. "I can't wait."

Masking a heavy sigh at the duty before him with a cough, Harry followed Ron as he headed out of the common room, not paying attention to his housemate ramble on about Quidditch and how he was really looking forward to some fried eggs and bacon.

---

Two hours later and Harry was standing out on the Quidditch Pitch in the crisp morning air, surveying the assembled crowd with slight panic. They did not look the least bit like a bunch of Quidditch players, nor did they seem to have the potential to turn into them. On the bright side, however, the team had suffered considerable damage last year but still managed to win the Cup so maybe they would make it through the season unscathed.

"Right," the boy said slightly hesitantly, half expecting one of the previous captains to come out and start barking orders at him. "Right, well, urhmm… right. The team. We need to pick players. So, well, I guess we'll play a game and, erm, see how you do."

One tumultuous game later, and the students were once again assembled in front of him. Some looked like they were extremely happy with the way it had gone, while others seemed scared about the results, and Neville was just a bit bruised really. After announcing that he would post the results in the common room later that week, Harry trudged away with Ginny, Ron and Hermione—the latter of whom had tagged along to watch the proceedings and offer much needed moral support—trying to pay attention to the conversation he was supposed to be engaged in but finding himself zoning out nonetheless.

---

The rest of the weekend had passed relatively uneventfully, punctuated with brief attempts at tackling his Potions homework while he tried to sort out the team for the upcoming Quidditch season. Some of the kids who had tried out kept pestering him for an answer but his lips were very much sealed—mostly because he had no idea who to pick for the team. It just wouldn't be the same without the players he'd grown used to over the years.

Before he knew it, Monday morning had arrived and it was time to get ready for Transfiguration. The sixth year joined the rest of his housemates heading off towards the classroom, not particularly looking forward to an hour of what would most likely be horrifically boring and/or difficult spell-casting to drive in the message that the N.E.W.T.'s were not going to be a piece of cake by any stretch of the imagination. McGonagall was thorough like that.

The first thing he noticed upon entering the room was that Malfoy, sat right at the back of the room next to Millicent Bulstrode, was staring at him with a murderous expression. And if anyone knew what murderous expressions looked like, it was Harry Potter. He avoided the Slytherin's hard gaze, swallowing hard and thinking back to what had happened in the library. There would no doubt be a confrontation soon. Harry had managed to avoid Draco all weekend by staying in the Gryffindor common room as much as possible but it would be hard to keep out of his way forever. His mind threw disturbing images at him of what could happen not so far in the future and he suddenly felt queasy.

"Good morning, sixth years," said McGonagall once the last dregs of students had arrived, surveying the survivors of the O.W.L. exam. "Each and every one of you is here today because you excelled at the Transfiguration exam last year. As such, I will be expecting the very best from all of you. Please do not disappoint me."

Harry sighed. This was definitely not going to be a fun lesson by any stretch of the imagination.

The Professor set out the plan for the lesson and the students all got on with it obediently but the Gryffindor was having trouble paying attention to the task at hand. Each time he tried to tackle the conjuring spell in the Guide to Advanced Transfiguration, he found himself distracted by the feeling of being watched very intently. And each time he craned his neck to look around the room, it was Malfoy who couldn't tear his eyes away. It was just impossible to concentrate on spell casting. Next to him, Hermione had almost effortlessly conjured up a very small button, while on the other side Ron appeared to have given up after his wand had shot out some sparks and singed the desk.

"This is too hard," Ron groaned, poking at the burnt bit of wood in front of him, and casting an irritated glance at the small collection of buttons Hermione was building up.

The girl sighed noisily.

"Oh honestly, Ronald, it wouldn't be this difficult if you would actually read the textbook!" she exclaimed, turning to the right page in the redhead's book. "You were doing it wrong, you're supposed to emphasise the last syllable, not the first. And you definitely aren't going to conjure anything just waving your wand around like a madman."

Harry tuned the pair out as they began to bicker like an old married couple, focusing his attentions not on conjuring anything out of nowhere but instead on returning Malfoy's stare with iron determination. Regardless of his thoughts before, which had been easily amplified while lying in bed worrying like that, he was now certain that he just wanted to hit the boy again. It had felt so _good_ punching him, like his fist had been made for that very purpose. And every inch of him had been filled with adrenaline and the heady rush of the moment. The sixth year very rarely felt that alive anymore. Sirius' death had left him, for the most part, feeling hollow and detached from everyone else, and it was thrilling to feel like a human again, if only for the few minutes he'd been confronting the boy.

When the lesson drew to a close—with no better results for Ron and Harry than at the start of the class—the green-eyed student watched with slightly narrowed eyes as Malfoy marched past, pausing for the briefest of moments to deposit a wrinkled bit of parchment on his desk. Unfolding the paper, his eyes grazed over the little drawing of himself being ruthlessly beaten to a pulp by the Slytherin and focused instead on the messily scrawled words: Quidditch Pitch. Midnight. Wand.

---

That afternoon, Harry finished choosing the Quidditch team. He posted the announcement and quickly vacated the common room, seeking to avoid the Gryffindors who either wanted to thank him rather too enthusiastically for picking them or to demand why their names weren't on the list. It just seemed wise to stay out of the way for a bit. The first game was scheduled earlier than usual—at the weekend, in fact—and he was slightly wary as his team would be taking on Slytherin and their new captain, Malfoy. Not good.

Once he figured the fuss would have died down, the Gryffindor headed back to find the common room empty apart from Ron and Hermione. A stroke of luck, at last. Seating himself in a heavily padded armchair, he produced the piece of parchment Draco had left him from his pocket and placed it on the table between them, waiting for their reactions. He knew exactly what they would say, really, but still felt it necessary to get their opinions on the matter.

"Oh, Harry!" Hermione gasped, looking perturbed. "You're not going to go, are you?"

Ron just looked annoyed, shaking his head as he held the thin parchment between his fingers. "Well mate, I hope you kick his bony arse."

"Don't be silly Ron! He can't possibly go. It's obviously a trap, Malfoy will probably have about ten Slytherins waiting in the dark."

Harry shrugged, taking the note back from Ron and shoving it in the pocket of his school trousers. Their reactions were predictable; the girl never wanted him to rise to the bait of things like this and the boy was all for a fight with the Slytherin, as was always the case. And he knew it would probably be a trap but he couldn't resist the summons. It wasn't a case of machismo or not looking a coward, he just knew that part of him _needed _this, thirsted for it as though his body was fed by confrontation.

"Well, I'm going," said the green-eyed one simply, ignoring Hermione's protests. "And I'm taking the invisibility cloak."

Hermione spent the duration of dinner that day trying to persuade him to change his mind but he was not budging. He needed to feel anger, and hate, and pain to know that he was still alive and not simply a ghost floating through life and not feeling any of it.

---

While his other housemates were getting safely into bed for some sleep, Harry was polishing his wand with a glazed look in his eyes, already anticipating the events ahead with relish. He wasn't scared of Malfoy in the least. There had been moments, of course, when he'd had those disturbing thoughts and feelings but it hadn't lasted and he was sure now that the potion had worn off. After all, Hermione had only been lovey-dovey with Pansy for the one day so there was no way it would still be affecting him. This night was purely about the ongoing rivalry between the boys which would drive them both to insanity if it wasn't given an outlet sometimes.

After a cocky wink to Ron, the boy almost ran to reach the Quidditch Pitch as midnight rolled along, safely hidden under the cover of his father's invisibility cloak. When his feet moved onto the springy, slightly wet grass underfoot, his eyes caught sight of a familiar person standing just by the first set of goals, leaning lightly against the right post. In the darkness, Draco's hair and skin seemed to almost glow as they were caught by the moonlight. He allowed himself a moment to study the boy—purely for a fighting edge, that is—then dramatically whipped off the invisibility cloak after moving himself directly in front of the Slytherin.

Draco reacted with equal drama, jumping violently at the sudden revelation that Harry was standing in front of him. For a moment his face was pure shock as he stumbled backwards but then he was clawing back his composure and settling for the ever faithful sneer of disdain that he directed towards his rival with full intensity. One pale hand slipped into his robes, drawing out his wand slowly and holding it at his side.

"How long have you been here?" The Slytherin demanded, voice showing the anger he felt at being surprised.

Harry was feeling incredibly smug—it was clear that he had control here, if only for a few moments. "Never you mind that, Malfoy. I'm guessing you didn't ask me here for chitchat."

The blond narrowed his eyes. "Obviously."

Without bothering to explain, he lifted his wand and pointed it at Harry, shifting effortlessly into the duelling position. This momentarily sent the Gryffindor back to their second year, so long ago when they had duelled for the first and only time. Now it seemed they would get a chance to try again, without any interruptions. The boy took his own wand out without hesitation, mirroring the other's movements and standing ready.

"Bet you're glad there's no one here to see you get your arse kicked, eh Malfoy?"

Draco snorted. "I'm not going to get my arse kicked, Scarhead… Incendio!"

The sudden spell casting caught Harry off guard but he whipped his wand up in front of him and countered seconds later with a cry of the blasting curse's incantation, moving sideways in case the fire managed to get through. The power of his spell rushed through the air and collided with the flames from Draco's, creating a loud bang and a flash of colour that made his eyes sting. The Slytherin was quick on the draw and immediately shouted, "Impedimenta!"

"Expelliarmus!"

Although he could hardly believe his eyes, the force of his spell ploughed through the air and hit Malfoy hard, sending him back a few steps as his wand flew out of his hand and into the air. Harry dove forwards out of the way of the impediment jinx and caught the wand, mouth hanging open in surprise as he stood there in silence. For a moment he almost expected the other boy to accept defeat, then suddenly he had been tackled with surprising strength from such a slender person. They crashed to the ground with a thud, wrestling with each other for control even as they fell.

"You're going down, Potter!" Draco thundered, resorting to muggle methods without his wand and soundly punching the boy in the stomach.

This winded Harry and he tried to double over on the wet grass but found himself unable to as Malfoy was on top of him still, hitting whatever he could reach and just generally being a nuisance. This was creating a sort of friction over his body though and his aggression changed, like a switch had been flicked, to blinding panic as the friction began to feel pleasant. His head was saying one thing (in this case, 'run away!') but his body was saying something entirely different and if he didn't get out immediately, there would be dire consequences. He heaved upwards, trying to get away from the other boy but that only served to emphasise the problem he was trying to avoid as he pushed against him.

"Gonna use your wand on an unarmed man, are you, Potter? That's not very Gryffindor of you," Draco sneered, appearing disdainful but still pulling back sharply to put some distance between them. Spotting his discarded wand on the grass, he snatched it up and pointed it down at the horrified boy on the floor… then suddenly noticed what exactly the problem was.

Harry's wand, too, was discarded on the floor.

Silence reigned. Then—

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Malfoy roared, disgust etched across his features and flooding his grey eyes. He seemed unsure how to act, other than moving backwards with a mixture of anger and revulsion.

There was not a single thing that Harry could think of to say to get out of the situation. The damage was done, there was no hiding it—in fact, Draco was staring right at it. Even the panic and embarrassment and countless other emotions flooding his system did nothing to quell the problem, for the feel of the Slytherin's body still lingered on him and the memory seemed to be burned into his mind. He didn't think he would ever be able to forget it.

"I knew you were a freak but I didn't think you were gay," Draco hissed in a vicious tone, eyes still fixed on the object of Harry's embarrassment. "You're fucking disgusting."

Harry dragged himself up off the floor, prompting the Slytherin to move even further back, grabbing his wand in the process. "I'm not gay, Malfoy! You shut your mouth!"

Draco's eyes darkened to a stormy grey at that exclamation and he began to stalk towards the Gryffindor with slow, delicate steps like a lion zoning in on its prey. This caused Harry to stir uneasily, wondering what the git was planning… there weren't a lot of things that could make this situation worse but he could think of a few.

"Oh no?" he asked silkily, still moving forwards until just inches separated them. Malfoy moved his head in, quelling his mind's frantic warnings to get the hell out of there, until his lips were by Harry's ear. Then he whispered his next words, soft breath tickling the other boy's ear and making him shiver involuntarily. "Then why do you have more wood than the Whomping Willow?"

The part of Harry's mind that had been controlling his thoughts in the library had stepped to the forefront again, making his body all the more sensitive to the close proximity of his rival. Even just the smell of the Slytherin was intoxicating.

"I think you want me, Potter. You do, don't you?"

By this point, all reason had left him. Draco had moved his head so that they were facing each other, lips so close they were almost touching, and he was so terrified that he could hardly breathe. But his vocal cords seemed to be moving of their own accord, not taking into account the part of his brain screaming for him to stop before the damage was done and it was too late. But there was no stopping now. And his head seemed to be pulled in like there was a magnetic force at work, though he fought to stop himself from simply crushing their lips together.

"…Y—yes."

"Thought so."

Then, just like that, Draco brought a knee up and rammed it into Harry's stomach, winding him for the second time that night. He shoved the boy backwards and sneered down at him, eyes filled once more with that murderous gleam he had seen earlier in the day. There was nothing left of the person that had appeared just for that moment to lay the bait and set the trap.

"You disgust me," he spat, delivering a hard kick to the Gryffindor's side before turning and stalking off towards the castle in a whirl of black robes.

Stunned and horrified at what had just happened, Harry didn't move for at least half an hour. He just lay there, his sore body cushioned by the wet grass as he realised that he was now in some serious shit.


End file.
